Samantha's Past
by LShaune
Summary: The character is my own, I do not own White Wolf or its games. Based in Chnageling the Lost, the history of my character. Warning, it sucks.
1. Before the Fall

**Note: Just a quick impulse thing, dunno if I'll finish. This first chapter here is a bunch of memories. Maybe it'll become clearer later, but don't count on it. Toodles!**

_I don't know how to describe it. One moment I'm me, the next I'm someone else in my body._

_My heart pounds. My pupils dialate. My lungs hurt. My head spins. I'm cold and hot at the same time. I get a rush like nothing else, and when it's over there's only one thing I can think of._

_Doing it again._

A buzzer blares somewhere and I'm off instantly, leaning forward and pushing off the platform. My body hits cool, liquid glass and for a few moments I marvel at how weightless my body feels. Then my head breaks the surface of the water and I'm off again, one arm in while the other is out and breathing in cycles. I don't know where the other competitors are, I'm not focused on them. Instead I'm amazed at how the water feels supporting my body, at how smooth and cool it is.

All at once I'm at the other end of the pool and I take a deep breath and flip, humming to keep my nose from being filled with water. Once facing the other side of the pool I push off and continue swimming. Dip arm, raise arm, breathe, dip arm, raise arm, breathe. What a feeling!

All too soon, the counter in my head tells me I'm on my last lap and I coast to a stop at the end of the pool. Only now do I really feel how tired I am, how fast I must have been moving, but there is a fierce sort of joy here as well. The knowledge that I've given my all in the race, yes this is a small part of it, but really the joy comes from the act of swimming itself. There is nothing in this world that compares, save for the feeling that comes from a paticularly good church service with a paticularly good move of God.

I'm pulling myself from the water with shaky, adrenaline shot arms when my team mates come running up with congratulations and excited cries. At first I don't understand, then I understand. I've done well, maybe I've won, but in the very least I've scored high enough to be recognized. I search the crowds, wave to my family that I've just been able to remember again, and soak up the praise. It's a high, but a cheap high. I don't want the praise, or even to race really.

I want to swim.

* * *

"Amelia Brown, First Place!" My mother reads, yet again, from the name plate on my trophy. My hair is matted to my head, though by now dry, from the chlorine in the pool and my eyes smart. Still, I smile and entertain my mother's joy and my father's pride, which is evident everytime they've looked at me on the way back home. I smile at her, looking into grey eyes that mirror mine so well, and she smiles right back and turns away to chatter on. I look away and gaze out the window, seeing a girl in the reflection wearing the same smile.

She has red hair that is too long to swim with and is often tied up or put under a cap during races and practice, and pale freckled skin. I don't like the freckles very much, they're a cinnamon color that I think makes my face look like a pizza or something. Father says it makes me look like a 'very nice young girl' which doesn't really matter. Father's are suppose to say that sort of stuff to their daughters anyway, right?

To be honest, I'm about as pleased with the rest of me as I am my face. I'm strong, but my muscles are not really all that prominent. I look small, scrawny really, and I'm still waiting for the breast and hip fairies to pay a visit. Sixteen bosomless and shapeless, that has sort of a depressing sound to it. On the up side, none of my friends ever accuse me of flirting with their boyfriends and my clothes still look okay on me. There's no way I'd ever fill out a prom dress and look good, but my skirts don't fall down and I do get compliments every now and then. Maybe I'm so much faster in the water then my friends because I don't have all those curves creating drag...?

"Hey Honey, how about we stop and get you that bathing suit you wanted? You're old one is starting to look a little worn and ragged," Mother says, snapping me out of my depressing thoughts. I smiled and gave a shrug which Mother took as a yes and smiled cheerfully while chatting on about how lovely it would look on me, how it would bring out my eyes...

I turn back to the window, thinking there isn't really anything wrong with my old swimsuit, but perhaps a new one would be nice so long as it isn't that bikini thing my Mother was looking at. I can see far too many unpleasant things happening wearing that, especially if I decide to do the backstroke in the pool and it's loose. I'd die of embarassment if that happened, even if I don't have anything to show off! I'll have to remember to go with Mother when she gets the suit, just to be sure it's something safe to swim in.

"Is Grandma and Grandpa still home?" I ask, breaking my Mother's own string of thoughts as neatly as she had broken my own. Before she recovers, Father answers, smiling with a small amount of pride. "They'll be there for a little while longer, Sam. I'm sure they'll both be very happy with how you did at the competition."

The competition. The competition. Didn't they think of anything else? Then again, they probably assumed I'm proud of winning, which would be a normal reaction for this accomplishment. Truthfully though, I don't really care about winning at all. Sure, it's nice, but who cares? The trophy will tarnish, my name will be erased, the win is not forever. Next year there may be someone else better then me, in fact I hope there is so I don't have to deal with this really. It feels, undeserving somehow that I've won when I don't care about winning. I just want to swim, winning is just a little extra fun... and stress. Yes, winning was more stress then anything but for some reason racing was just too hard to give up. It was the only sport that kept her in the water...

* * *

_**'Once upon a moonlit night three children were out after dark, though their parents had warned them not to be, playing and talking with one another. They came upon a beautiful, pale horse which was as tame as any creature they had ever seen which bade them to climb upon its back.**_

_**The children did this, and were soon-'**_

"Stuck fast to the goblin horse, dragged all over the country side, and then the goblin horse took a dip in the lake. The next morning the kid's entrails were floating on the surface," I chirped, making Grandma give me a stern look. I giggled and she sighed, stroking my hair from my face.

"I suppose I've told that one too often then?" The old woman asked, her firey red hair gone to ashes in her age and her grey eyes more stormy then my own. I nodded smiling the smile of my Mother, cheerful and bright. "You children today, far too insensitive to things of the spiritual and supernatural," Grandma clucked, kissing my forehead as if I were a small girl still and tucking me into my light blue blankets.

"Grandma, none of that story is real. It's just made up as a warning for kids to listen to their parents," I said, settling into my blankets and smiling at the old woman who half smiled back. "Be careful, baby girl. Stories always have an ounce of truth to them," Grandma said, patting my leg and turning out the light. She always treats me as if I'm a very small child, but I don't mind. She's the only person in my family that treats me this way, and to be honest, I love being treated this way.

Youth is so brief, I like having someone here who doesn't scold me for being childish and who sees me as a child. I hear her blow me a kiss before closing the door completely and then I turn on my side, staring out my window. A kernal of truth in that tale? Yeah, right.

I'll believe it when I see it.

* * *

"Come on, Amelia! When are you gonna get rid of it?"

_How on Earth had we gotten on ths topic?_

"Yeah, seriously. Hey! I know a really cute boy that I could-"

"How many variations of 'heck no' do you want?" I asked, making an exasperated sound. My friends giggle at how flustered I was while I walk away, trying to keep calm. 'Get rid of it,' how could someone refer to their virginity that way?! And why talk about it in the middle of school halls?! A low groan escaped me before I darted into my next class, psychology.

"Not feeling well today, Amelia?" Mrs. Smith said, startling me so completely I nearly drop my books on my feet. Mrs. Smith, a woman with wide hips, a large stomach, and an oddly handsome face, seemed just as surprised as I was. "Did I frighten you, dear?"

_'Heck yes, you frightened me,'_ I thought, trying to keep the thoughts to myself. I smile my mother's smile and shake my head. "No, I'm fine. Um, sorry for bothering you..." I say, dodging around the woman and heading for my seat. I steal a quick glance at the board to spy today's subject: Conditioning. At least it was easier then the rest of that crud we were learning, especially the stuff about Sigmund Freud. I swear he was on drugs when he made most of his theories.

I pull out my notebook and begin to doodle as class starts. Little wavy lines, like waves... I begin taking notes, embarrassed by my obsession. Maybe I do need a boyfriend, for the company if nothing else. At least then I wouldn't be thinking about swimming all the time, just most of the time. I doodle some more, letting the psychology sink in via osmosis rather then actual studying.

After school today I'll go to the river and go swimming. I'll have to be careful though, my parents have never liked the idea of me going swimming in that river. Something about the current, about the kids that play there, and occasionally something about the decade old disappearances that happened there.

It's all a little ridiculous really. I've been swimming there since I'd found the little river five years ago, and it was always the same. Clear all the way to the bottom, like glass, and just as smooth on top. It's the same after a strong rainfall, at the beginning and end of summer, and it's the same in the dead of night. There's no way I'll give up my favorite swimming spot just because my parents are a little spooked over a few things. No way, no how.

I gaze back up at the blackboard, and begin digesting a diagram with a dog being conditioned to drool when he hears a bell. Oh well, what Mom and Dad don't know won't hurt them...

**Note: Ha! It's so short!**


	2. Taken

**Note: This chapter details Samantha's abduction and time in Arcadia. Parts will not be 100 percent clear, because she will have fairly confused thoughts because of her seeming, and this is mostly streams of consciousness. Warning for suggested rape and all that jazz.**

I walked down to the river, angry and upset over a fight with my parents. The river was **perfectly** safe! It didn't matter -how- late in the season it was, or how much it had rained in the past week. I knew that river like the back of my hand, and looking at it now I knew it was perfectly safe to swim in. The river ran a bit higher, but there were no lines in it's surface to indicate a strong current. The top of the water was as smooth as glass, just like usual.

I kicked off my sandals and then removed my shirt, pausing only to adjust the straps of my swimsuit before sticking a foot into the water to test it. Cool and smooth, probably warmer where the sun is shining through. Much warmer. I begin to remove my shorts as well, when I get the undeniable feeling of being watched.

I look around, but see no one. No one in the bushes, or behind the tree's. No one in the water. I'm completely alone, or so I begin to tell myself. That feeling just won't leave, and suddenly swimming doesn't seem all that appealing to me. Grabbing my clothes and running for the high hills, however, seems like the best idea I've ever heard.

I'm about to do just that, when a boy appears across the river and for some reason he is more then enough to stop me dead. Sandy hair, blue green eyes, and such pale skin... Just looking at him makes me self conscious about my underdeveloped body, but he doesn't seem to notice. Instead he smiles and waves to me, and despite all the silent warning bells going off in my head I wave back in a daze. Why was someone like him paying any attention to me? I must have fallen asleep on the river bank... Yeah, that's it.

"Hey! Do you swim at all?" The boy calls out in a voice that didn't seem to fit him. It sounds so deep and odd, not at all like the voice a boy his age should have. I nod mutely and he grins, suddenly diving into the water and reappearing at my side of the river in mere seconds. He was good. "Do you wanna race?" He asks, watching me carefully.

Did I want to race? How many variations of heck yes did he want? I nod, misgivings suddenly gone, and pull off my shorts before climbing into the water. It was much cooler then I thought, but not frigid and after dunking my head under once I felt fine. Returning to where the boy waits, I stood ready to swim where ever he decided was the 'finish line.' He points across the river, near where he had come out.

"We'll race to over there, okay?" He said, and not waiting for my answer, he leans forward into a racing start. "Ready, set, go!" Barely before he finishes 'Go' we have both taken off. He's ahead of me already, but somehow it seemed unimportant. I am caught up in swimming again, and the more I lose myself to it the faster I become. I stretch my hand out for a bit of earth that was the finish line, am vaguely aware that he is doing the same. See a hand touch the earth, know it is not mine because I feel no earth against my fingertips. The race is over, he has won.

The boy climbs out of the water, somehow still having enough energy to do so, and studies me closely. The way he studies me makes the alarms go off again, as if I am not a person but an object or an animal for auction. As quickly as the look appears it is gone again, and he smiles as he helps me stand up.

"You're pretty good, what's your name?" He asks, keeping a hold on my hand and leading me up the bank. I pull my hand free, very uncomfortable with a strange boy holding my hand as if it were a normal, necessary thing, and then realize just how cold and clammy it was. Almost like a fish or something...

"I'm Amelia, who are you?" I say, following the boy despite the fact that there was nothing making me follow him anymore. Instead of answering my question, he began asking me questions in an odd, interrogation style sort of way. The questioning shatters my focus and forces me to refocus on the questions. How old am I? Where was I born? Where did I learn to swim? Even as I answer the questions we're heading deeper and deeper into the forests, and slowly the environment is changing. Even in my spaced out state I can feel it. Things are cutting my hands and feet, and they make me stop.

Thorns are everywhere, as though the earth has given birth to a large, sprawling mess of them. I have never seen so many vines in my life, and with good reason. This place does not exist, not that I know of. I turn to look behind me, and see nothing familiar. Far off from where I am, I can see a shaft of light and every instinct tells me to run to it and be gone, but where does it lead to?

"Amelia, come on." Now I turn back towards the boy and feel as though I've been thrown into cold water. He no longer looks like the boy who challenged me at the river. His hair is kelpie and long, his skin has become scaly, and his hands and feet and elongated, clawed, and webbed. The only familiar thing I can see are his eyes, still that same blue green. My first reaction is simple, I try to run away as fast as I can. I manage to make it a mere foot and a half before my hair is seized and I'm pulled off the ground. Pain rakes through my head, down my temples, and across the hair on the back of my neck.

"I said, come on." My feet make contact with the ground again, and then I am pulled forward by my hair, pain bolting across my forehead and neck. I trip over a vine and fall onto a mess of thorns, cutting up my suit and legs. Where were my clothes? Did I leave them back at the river? What on earth is going on? Before I can answer my own questions, or even seriously consider them, a fist connections with my temple and I know nothing more.

* * *

**(Note: The rest of this will mainly be streams of consciousness covering a three year period. It is not in order, and a lot probably does not make sense, but then again, I don't believe and Elemental's memories are suppose to make sense)**

* * *

_Black _

_Water _

_Dripping _

_Dark _

_Where am I? _

_There's nothing but darkness everywhere and a thin ring of light above. Did I die? _

_...No, I wouldn't be in this much pain if I had died. My head aches so horribly, and my body hurts... What is this around me? Cool, moist... Like water... But something is different... Something doesn't feel right. _

_I think I am floating. Maybe I am in water? ...But if so, why does it feel like something is in here with me? _

_

* * *

_

_I think I fell asleep. I don't know how, but I managed to do it without sinking to the bottom. _

_That's good. _

_There are bad things down there, very bad things..._

* * *

_The ring of light... _

_Today it became a circle, and it hurt my eyes very badly. _

_When they finally adjusted, I saw my prison. I think I am in a well, a well with a covering on top. The ring is the light coming in around the covering... _

_How long have I been down here? I'm beginning to lose count..._

* * *

_Tried to climb up the side of the well. _

_I fell halfway up, went back into the water. Something in the water grabbed at me, tried to keep me under. Something with cold hands and slippery skin. _

_I'm staying on the surface now. I don't want it to touch me again. _

_I don't like this water. _

* * *

_A bucket came down. _

_It had fruit in it and something like sage, but the food was strange. _

_I ate it and felt... so odd. _

_Lethargic... and there was pain... A dull ache in my chest. I wanted to cry and couldn't for some reason... It was all trapped inside. _

_Why?_

* * *

_The bucket came down. _

_Nothing was in it, and so I left it alone. _

_Someone with a deep voice was telling me to get into it, but surely I can't fit into a bucket? _

_They're still yelling._

* * *

_I climbed into the bucket. _

_Somehow I fit, but I don't think I should have done it. _

_The bucket it hanging only half way up, and I'm still inside... _

_Why do I feel so odd? _

_I want to get back to the water, but I am afraid. _

_The water is black... But I feel like I'm dying... _

_Oh God, help me..._

* * *

_The bucket is moving again. _

_How long has it been? _

_A day? A month? Or a year? _

_Why is the bucket going up? _

_What is there beyond this well? _

_...I... I can't remember... I can't remember anything... Anything at all... _

* * *

_Blood... There's a lot of blood. _

_The water is bleeding... Or is it me? _

_...I don't understand... Is this a dream?... If it is, then this pain is what makes it a nightmare... _

_When I first got here I wondered if I was dead... _

_...I know I am now..._

* * *

_The bucket came down. _

_I climbed quickly this time, wasn't punished again... _

_My hands look like his now, and my skin is changing colors. _

_...I don't want to be like him. I don't want to be a fish... _

_Need to run errands... Need to be quick or else I'll be punished... _

* * *

_I didn't matter._

* * *

_Saw my reflection on the way to deliver a funny looking thing to another Fae. _

_My eyes... I don't think I've ever seen them before... But... I don't think they were always black like this... _

_My hair looks like his now... I will not become him. I -will not- become him... _

* * *

_Back in the well. _

_I can stay underwater longer now, and swimming is no trouble... _

_I keep hearing things... Whispers... And I keep answering them back. _

_...Water... I can hear the water... And I think it hears me as well. _

_...I want to be the water..._

* * *

_It hurts worse now. _

_So much worse... I need the water but it's so dark... Those things are still there... But I'm drying up. _

_There's no other way to describe it. _

_I'm drying up, and it's killing me... It might be better this way... _

_...He can't kill me if I die like this..._

* * *

_...Water... _

_...Water... _

_...It's so cool... So smooth... Water never cries... It cannot be hurt... _

_It's like glass... Fragile and strong... Breaking and cutting... _

_I told the water I want to be like it, before I become like him... _

_...I made my vow... I shall abide by the rules of the contract... _

_...I am water... _

_Died again._

* * *

_...I remember... Water... _

_The water was blue... It smelled strange... It was so clear..._

_I remember a whistle... or a buzzer... Going off. _

_...Swimming for no one but myself... Feeling free... And there was someone there... A lot of someone's, but only a few were important... _

_A woman. _

_A man. _

_And an older woman.. _

_I don't know why, but this memory makes me warm inside... Happy and safe... _

_...I want to be where they are... _

* * *

_Tried running during my errand. _

_Didn't make it far, got caught near the thorns. _

_My skin feels like it's burning up, my belly hurts... But... I want to try again... I will try again... _

_I don't have anything to lose... He made sure of that... _

_...I will try again..._

* * *

_...In the Thorns..._

* * *

_...I think I've made it._

**Note: Sorry for the extreme confusion!**


	3. The Return

**Note: A brief look at Sam's return and her fetch. **

**P.S. Yes, the double part is confusing, bear with me. Sam is confused as well.**

Thorns ripped into my flesh as I bolted in and around the Hedge, the place where my torment began. It seemed like ages ago... And yet it had only been fifteen minutes, if that. I had been given an object to deliver, something like money, and then had seen a path in the water. It was barely visible, but I had been in the lakes of Arcadia for maybe three years now and I knew that it was a path less traveled.

The rest was sketchy, probably from the rush of adrenaline I'd had, and difficult to piece together. I dropped the money, I knew that... And then I had dived into the water and started following the path...

It led me here, where I was running through thorns and vines and scratching myself to hamburger. I just kept running. There was no telling whether or not he was after me... Or had he let me escape? Oh dear Lord no...

The ground beneath my feet becomes cold and bites my feet, freezing the blood and making my feet slippery. When was the last time I had seen snow? It seems so long ago... Before I can dwell on the thought I fall into a small frozen pond, the snow having covered it until this moment and the ice giving way beneath me. I gasp once before I fall under, covered by the icy water.

I cannot think. I cannot breath. It all hurts too much, as if my skin is being burned off my body by the frigid waters. Even so, there is some comfort in it, even as my brain feels like it is going to explode and I lose myself. This suffering is nothing... Nothing compared to over There. Nothing...

Something colder touches my head, and I force myself to lift my head up. I break the surface of the water, and suck in freezing air. I start coughing immediately, and instincts take over. I force myself up onto the ice, slipping and nearly falling back in, but for same reason the ice seems thicker here... I lie flat on my belly and pull myself across until my hand touches earth beneath the snow. Then I open my frozen eyes and gasp.

I am home, or nearly so. The pond in our backyard, I have somehow come up in the pond. I stand, shaking, and walk towards my home. The lights are out, and it is dark, so it must be night. Night and... winter. Yes, winter. That's why it's snowing, and why it's so cold. I reach out and grab the door handle which clings to my hand, freezing with it, and open the door.

...Everything is the same. The pictures on the fridge, the cookie jar on the counter... I check my hiding place for junk food, barely noticing how it tears my skin to pull my hand from the door handle. Cookies... A Kit Kat... My favorite junk foods. All fresh, all right where I put them... But how could that be? I've been gone for so long... How could-

I see the calendar and stare, suddenly sick inside. November, it's late November... Of the same year I left. Three months... Not three years... But how? My head begins to spin, and I put my hands on either side of the kitchen sink and vomit, staining the inside of the sink with bile and blood from my stomach and hand. How could this be? How could-

"You made it back?" A voice says, a voice so familiar that it numbs me inside. I turn, unable to resist it, and see myself as I was three years ago. My hair is red, and my eyes are grey, but they are not my eyes, are they? I saw them, they were black... I walk towards me, and cross my arms, eyeing myself curiously. Now I see other differences between us, I have filled out more during the past months... years... Not much, but some...

"...What?" The voice I hear scares me, it is so... empty. Flat and unused, and just so... strange. I smirk and the state of me, scratched to bits and utterly naked by now. My form has lost substance over the years, I am bones and little else. "Go away. You don't belong here anymore, do you understand? I am Amelia, not you. Not anymore."

My words hit home, and suddenly I feel something inside of me give. A will... A vital spark of some kind. I am enraged and yet I see that the rage is useless. I am drowning in sorrow, and yet was never grieved for. I do not exist... And yet... Here I am. I cannot hurt this me... Because she is the only me that exists, and if I don't exist... Then my parents will hurt... I do not want that, but I don't know why.

Something hits me in the face and I stumble back. A coat, a long coat, with something in the pocket. I look at myself with disgust. "Go away, now. If you don't, I'll call the police, got it?" I feel warm hands turn me around and push me. I am outside again, and the snow is falling. Without thinking, I put the coat on and stick my hands in the pockets. I feel something in one. Something long and sharp...

* * *

The concrete is, if possible, colder then the snow. My feet hurt terribly, and have gone white by now, but it does not matter. Why should such a thing matter to someone who does not exist? My feet stain the snow red, and the scissors in my pocket grow heavier and heavier. I stumble a little, and people watch me as I walk, but I ignore them. They ignore me as well, no one likes a crazy.

The coat goes down to my knees, so they probably believe I am homeless and simply haven't pants or something... It isn't uncommon. It seems so strange, I can think so logically about what is going on and yet I feel so disconnected from it. As if I'm following myself in another body, watching what I do. By now I've figured that someone I must look normal to them, or else they would be running in fear, screaming or trying to exorcise me. I'm somewhat thankful, but the thanks is hollow. I can't put any feelings behind it, there just aren't any left.

I continue walking, fingering the scissors in my pocket and thinking, then stop dead. Fae, three of them, are standing in a group talking to each other. Even in this numbed state I can feel a sharp fear fill me. I begin to turn to walk away, then let out a short gasp as a horrid pain bolts across my abdomen. I hear someone call out, and without thinking I begin running. I hear their pursuit, but for some reason I am running slower then usual. As if there were some odd sort of voice in my head telling me to hold back.

"Hey kid! Wait, we just want to help you!" I don't believe it for a moment. I push harder, make my legs move faster, and the pain nearly rips me open. I collapse and smell blood from somewhere. A few moments later there is nothing but blackness.

**Note: ...This is horror for a reason darnit.**


	4. The Lost

**Note: Some time with the 'Fae' and Amelia/?**

"Is she dead?"

"Not yet, she ain't. Stupid brat, running off and making things so difficult for us."

"No, not dead. She was running off nothing and nothing finally caught up, that's all. The scissors didn't cut her too deeply, a little rest and she should be fine... Physically anyway."

"Why did she run away? She acts like she's never seen a Lost before..."

_'Lost.'_

With that thought reality sweeps back in, and with it is pain. The pain is in my side, in my feet, my belly, my hands, everywhere. The heat that had replaced the frigid air hurts my body like the ice hurt me, and a short breath escapes my lungs when I try to move my limbs. It hurts too much to do.

"Hey, I think she's starting to wake up." Someone's hand on my head. "Hey, are you there girlie?"

'Girlie?'

The tone sounds light, but forced as well for some reason. I forcibly turn my head away from the hand, squeezing my eyes tighter together to block out the pain the movement brings. The hand vanishes from my head, and I begin to open my eyes. At first I feel I may have been struck blind by a bright light, and then my eyes begin to focus and I see people standing near me.

No, not people... Fae.

An unbelieveably tall woman with white, dead eyes, disturbingly long fingers and translucent skin cranes over me almost curiously.

A curious looking youth with elongated fingers, large dark eyes, and dark fur hops around behind this woman, scratching his head in an oddly chimp-like way.

A man, taller then the woman somehow, with long hands and feet to match his height. His face looks long too, and his features seem stretched to fit his body.

The one closest to me is a rather short woman with green skin, large pupiless eyes, and thin, nimble fingers. She is pressing experimentally on my side, and the pressure draws another short breath from me. She makes a clicking sound with her tongue and removes her hand from my side.

"It looks like you'll need to wait a bit before you go running off again, girlie. As it is, I doubt you'll be doing much of anything for a week or so," She says, stepping back from me to go get something. I watch her silently, confused beyond words and a little frightened. These are Fae, why are they helping me? What sort of trick are they trying to pull on me? The stretched man smirks at me, as if he knows the fear I am feeling and enjoys it. That makes sense at least.

"Hey, hey, what's your name?" The chimp says, suddenly hopping up to the side of the (Bed?) thing I've been laid on to stare at me with an avid look of curiousity. My gaze moves to him and the faint smell of fruit he gives off. What -is- that? I don't remember any Fae ever having that sort of smell. Before I can try to formulate an answer, the tall woman seizes the chimp by his sleeve and drags him off to a corner to talk about something. Probably me.

The chimp pouts and looks like he may start whining, but the tall woman says something that keeps him quiet and the two leave the room after the chimp waves goodbye to me. After a moment the tall man gives me a smile, I think, and follows them out, leaving me with the green skinned Fae. She is watching me carefully, as if I may jump up and attack her.I would if I could, but even keeping my eyes open is a strain right now. I feel like I could sleep forever, and I wish I could too. It would be so much simpler...

"Hold still a second, girlie. I'm going to put an IV in your arm, so it might sting a little," she says, slipping the needle into the crook of my arm and connecting the tube to a bag of something clear. When the liquid finally reaches my arm, I begin feeling chilled. The woman pulls another blanket up to my neck. "It's always a little cold at first, but you'll adjust to it. My name is Polly, by the way. Polly Green."

Green? I feel a giggle trying to work itself up my throat and it takes all I have to surpress it. There's a horrid feeling that if I give the laughter voice, I won't be able to stop and I'll just go on laughing forever.

_'I think I must be losing my mind.'_

"-Paul will be keeping watch outside the door, so you needed worry about the Gentry"

_'The who?'_

"-'Scilla and Simon will be checking in every once in a while, and I will be seeing you again tomorrow to see how you're doing, perhaps sooner if you take a turn for the worst... By the way, what is your name?" Polly asks, watching me expectantly.

My name? I open my mouth to say Amelia, and then snap it shut again. No, not Amelia. Never Amelia again... But then who? Who to be if not Amelia? Polly must see something in my face, because she pats my head and gives me a kind smile. I remember the smile from somewhere, but where exactly I don't recall where anymore.

"Don't worry, girlie, you'll remember eventually," she says assuringly, removing her hand from my head and walking towards the door. Outside I can see the towering figure of the tall man. The light goes off and the door shuts. It's dark... but this time there is no circle above me to let in light. It's better this way, I think. It's dark, but there is no water and there is nothing to grab you in the dark...

* * *

_'The sun burned down into the bucket, drying up the water there. The water swirls and splashes against the sides of the bucket, as if trying to escape the bucket and get back into the water below it. The water cannot spill itself. No matter how much it tries it cannot spill itself.'_

_'I lean further over the well, staring into the bucket with a strange feeling rising in my gut. Foreboding, or dread maybe. Even so, I continue staring as if waiting for something. My skin feels itchy.. It burns slightly and I start rubbing my arms to try to rid myself of the feeling. The feeling grows stronger, and something on my skin makes my hands slip and slid across my arms. I smell something bad, like rot and metal.'_

_'The water suddenly splashes loudly, the bucket jerks sharply as if someone has grabbed the rope and yanked it upward. A face emerges from the shallow water in the bucket and stares up at me, eyes wide with terror and pain. The eyes are black, the skin has the bluish tones of someone that is too cold or dead, and the hair is a long, tangled mess of kelp. Me. It's me in the bucket.'_

_'I feel myself pitch forward and suddenly I am the one in the bucket, staring up at myself. Only I am no longer standing at the top of the well. He is there, and so am I. The I with red hair and grey eyes. They look down at me with amusement and disgust, and then they begin to cover up the well. The circle is slowly covered by another circle, the black shadow of the cover.'_

_'I open my mouth to cry out and the rope to the bucket goes slack. I fall back into the well, down into the dark cold waters, to the things that grab and tear. Something inside the darkness grabs me and shakes me, hard. My teeth clack together. I see spots. I start screaming, until-'_

"Paul! Give her a break, dude, you're gonna shake her to death!"

The thing releases me and I fall back onto... The bed? Is it a bed? I search around with my hands, unwilling to open my eyes, and feels cold, wet sheets. I open my eyes and sweat stings them, making me wince. The tall man and the chimp stand nearby, arguing in what they must believe is a quiet voice. Compared to the well, their voices are quite loud to me.

"I'm just wakin' the brat up, Simon, settle down a lit-"

"Settle down? I walked in to see how everything was going and find her screaming and you shaking her! Geeze, no wonder she thought we were the gentr-"

"You little monkey!"

I sit up, muscles screaming, and stare at the two as they fight. My skin is covered in sweat, a few cuts are bleeding again, but for some reason I feel so much calmer then I have since I returned. I can't place my finger on why, but I know it has something to do with the fighting going on here. I've never seen Fae do anything they didn't deem to be 'fun' and these two don't seem to be having much fun. They could still be messing with me, but I don't think Fae have the patience to drag out a performance this long simply to meet their ends. They like quick pleasures. After a moment I fall back into the bed again, looking at the IV placed into my arm and noting the new bag there.

Simon squeaks at the sound of the springs being abused, and Paul simply stops arguing long enough to look over at me. I shut my eyes a moment, and then open them again. Maybe this isn't a trap... Maybe...

* * *

I must have fallen asleep again. There's sunlight coming from somewhere, and Polly is standing beside my bed with another bag of fluid. How many bags does she have for me? This one is not clear, but a deep red and maroon. Blood? Polly looks down at me and smiles, patting my arm.

"Good morning, Girlie. Have a good nights rest?" She asks, writing something down on a clipboard and setting a small tray of much smaller containers in front of me. I don't answer, but I don't think she expects an answer right now. She settles in a chair and nods to the containers in front of me. "Try to eat a little. We need to get you up and running soon, so you can take care of yourself."

I take the one of the containers before I can think, pulling the top off carefully and looking inside. Jello, or something like that I think. It smells like cherry, and seems a little runny. I take a taste of the juice from inside, and then quickly eat the jello. It's almost too sweet, but I'm not complaining. It's the first thing besides those fruits and grasses I've had in years. It takes a moment before I take another container, making sure the food will stay in my belly where it belongs instead of rebelling against me. Polly talks while I eat, filling the silence with useless bits of information that she has no reason to talk about other then to stay away the silence.

I enjoy it. It's been so long since I've been here that, while I understand how people act around me and believe I could imitate them given time, I have no idea what is really going on here. Who is president? Who died that was important? What's going on with the war?

I don't know any of those things, and so while Polly talks I eat and listen. I try to understand what's happened since I left. It turns out I'm lucky to have only been gone three months, little has changed. The more Polly talks, the more I remember, and the more I remember the better I feel. The information is probably the most solid thing I have to hang onto right now...

Memories are failing me, my family is no longer my own, and reality itself seems to have dissolved. The past remains constant though. The past, even if I wasn't here for it, is still the past...

* * *

Panic.

I'm padding down a hall, but I don't know how I got there. I remember dreaming, dreaming about water and blood, and then I was here. I'm sweating, shaking, and gasping for air (water?) and looking around the hall for anything to make this feeling of fear leave. I lean against a door and cry out as it moves under my weight. I fall into what looks like a bathroom.

The lights switch themselves on as soon as I fall through, and I'm suddenly aware of the coat I'm wearing. It's the same one Amelia threw at me the night I managed to escape.

The inside is stained black and brown with long dried blood, and there's something heavy in the pocket. I reach in and remove the scissors, long metallic scissors used for cutting hair. It takes a moment, but with the sight of the silver scissors I remember how exactly I ended up here.

I'd been dreaming, and in the dream I felt pain. My wrists hurt, my belly hurt, my legs, my face, my mouth, and then there was a deeper pain... One that I couldn't quite remember. For some reason I felt thankful that I didn't remember that pain. I woke, and began feeling itchy. Dry. Like my skin was beginning to burn.

That feeling was familiar. With that sensation, I remembered the bucket. The sun. That bright circle. I panicked and climbed out of the bed, nearly tearing the IV out of my arm. It had taken a while to disconnect the IV, but eventually I'd found a safety pin left out and cut the tube. Blood pooled on the floor. I didn't care. My feet were covered with it by the time I found the coat, stored away in the closet.

I'd put it on without hesitating and then had gone searching through the drawers. I'd found the scissors, not the same ones I'd been given by Amelia, and stuck them in my pocket. I don't know why... It had just felt necessary. I stand up, only now noticing how grudgingly my legs hold my weight, and look around.

While tile floors, white walls, and a very clean countertop. The bathtub is large, larger then I'd think a bathrub should be, and the shower is seperate. The toilet sits close to the countertop and sink, and a large oval mirror hangs above the sink. I start walking towards the mirror, slipping slightly on my bloody feet, and stare at the person there. I don't know who she is.

The face is too thin, shruken and skull like, and the bones are clearly visible in my neck and shoulders. My skin is bluish, like I've been suffocated or drowned, and my hair is thick, whitened kelp. Black eyes stare back at me from the mirror, about the only thing I can recognize are those eyes. I know when they changed. My legs weaken further, not seeing any of the features that were in Amelia face anymore. On a whim, I remove the coat and study my body through the thin cotton gown I've been given, wonder how much that has changed.

Like my neck and shoulders, I see nearly all the bones in my body, jutting outward at horrid angles. I've completely lost my hips, chest, and backside, something that will probably change as I begin to eat more. My side is bandaged, and I faintly recall falling and feeling pain there. My arms and legs have developed some muscle, but it does little to keep them from looking like scarecrow arms, twiggy and twisted. My head looks too big for my body, like my hands and feet. I grip the counter to keep from falling down, my body screaming for water and my mind screaming in horror.

I drop the coat and head for the tub, turning the water on full blast and stripping off my clothes. The water burns, but this time it is because the water is suppose to burn, because we have agreed to let it burn, for the water to be hot and my skin to be scalded. The cuts flare with pain, and without thinking I submerge myself. Underneath the water it is boiling, but the pain has some comfort in it. My skin starts feeling better, the panic subsides, and the itch stops. The memory of the bucket, of the sun, of the well fades away again. I surface with a gasp and feel cool air against my skin.

I settle against the edge of the tub and stay there, clinging to the side and staring at the floor. My bloody footprints look more like smudges of red and pink on the tile, faint despite the mess I probably left in the hall. The mess I probably left... I shake my head hard.

I escaped.

_'He let me escape.'_

I took the chance and ran.

_'He let me go.'_

I'm safe now.

_'He's going to get me. He's going to mess with me a while longer and then he's going to get me again.'_

I shiver and climb out of the water. My skin is pruny, even though I can't recall being in the water that long, and my feet slip more on the tiled floor. I grab the scissors in one hand and stare at them. I'm cold again, even though the air is filled with heat and moisture, and frightened. He'll find me. I know it, the escape couldn't have been that simple.

I test the scissors on my thumb, cutting the wet, fragile skin easily. I suck on the cut and stare at the scissors.

Amelia... Am I Amelia?

No.

Amelia is dead.

Now I just have to finish the job.

I turn the scissors point up and click them open. The light dances off the silvery finish, dazzling me a moment. I bring the scissors up...

**Note: CLIFFHANGER!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA! SUFFER! ...That's it, I'm off caffeine again.**


End file.
